If You Can't Take The Heat
by jenorama
Summary: The Aurors have a bit of a public relations problem, so they've dispatched one Harry Potter to redeem their reputation. Meet the new celebrity judge of Britain's Best Magical Baker!
1. Chapter 1

"You've got an image problem." Harry winced as the heavy Sunday edition of _The Daily Prophet_ landed on the kitchen table with a loud _smack_.

Refusing to give in to Sirius's bait, he poured himself a cup of tea, taking his time to make sure it was just right before taking a sip. As he did, his eyes wandered over the headline at the very top. _Aurors Are Brutes and Bullies!_ it screamed as he knew it would.

"I don't have an image problem," he finally said, unfolding the paper.

Sirius snorted and slid two perfectly-cooked sunny side up eggs onto a plate along with a generous helping of beans and sausages. He put the plate down in front of Harry and sat down across from him with his own. "You know what I mean. The _department_ has an image problem."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Harry mashed up his eggs with his fork, stirring them together with his beans.

"Well, you're their boy, aren't you?" Sirius said, pointing at him with a sausage before putting it in his mouth and biting off half of it.

Harry didn't say anything, the familiar burning annoyance settling in his stomach as he read the article. He'd been there when Theodore Nott had been brought in on charges of tampering with the horses at the Ascot Racecourse.

He'd managed to struggle and yell his fool head off despite the three Aurors escorting him, attracting the attention of the entire office. Harry recalled standing up in his cube and looking over the walls, shaking his head as the red-faced Nott was frog-marched through on his way to the interrogation rooms.

Disgusted at the blatant yellow journalism, Harry put the paper down and focused on his breakfast, mopping up the remains with his toast. Aware of Sirius's eyes on him, he finally looked up. "What?"

"I didn't say anything," Sirius said, grabbing the front page for himself.

"Mm," Harry grunted, not fooled at all. He spied a Quidditch headline and picked up the section, reading the account of the Cannons's latest loss as he waited out his godfather.

"Pah," Sirius finally said, tossing the newspaper down to the table just as the fireplace in the cozy kitchen flared to life. "Bet I know who that is."

"Harry, are you there?" The disembodied head of Head Auror Jones floated in the fireplace, the man's rabbity blue eyes watering from the smoke.

Harry groaned and pushed his chair back, making his way to the eerily green fireplace to have a chat with his boss.

* * *

Ginny frowned as she read over the recipe. "Whisk egg whites and sugar in double boiler until soft peaks form and whites are shiny," she said, eyeing the water in the pot. "All right then. Let's give this a go."

Careful not to splash any hot water, she set the metal bowl full of egg whites into the pot and settled the old-fashioned crank beater into the eggs. Tapping it with her wand, she set it to cranking the beaters on its own, adjusting the speed until she was satisfied with the beating action.

"All right. Now, how's that sponge doing?" She hummed to herself as she turned to the cooling sponge wrapped in a kitchen towel, taking her time as she unrolled it flat so it wouldn't crack. Dusting cocoa powder over it, she checked on her eggs, pleased to see a nice sheen developing.

A short time later, she spread the now coffee-flavored meringue over the sponge, making sure it wasn't too thick. In the double boiler, she had dark chocolate melting with cream for a rich ganache that she couldn't wait to pour over the rolled cake. Surrounded by the wonderful smells of chocolate and coffee, Ginny was in what she considered to be the happiest place on Earth.

* * *

"I'm sorry, you expect me to what?" Harry said, making sure to keep his voice even. The Head Auror's office hardly deserved the word, being just a larger cubicle with no ceiling. He knew from experience that voices carried.

Antony Jones blinked at him, looking even more rabbity than he usually did. "I expect you to go on Britain's Most Magical Baker and be your most charming, wonderful self while you stuff your face with cakes and pies," he said, sounding nothing like a rabbit.

Harry crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling, searching for a way to tell the Head Auror that he didn't want any part of being charming or wonderful. _The cakes and pies though, I suppose that part wouldn't be too bad …_ "Antony, I just—"

"Listen, Harry. You know that whole business with Nott has got everyone riled up. We're still very much rebuilding trust after everything and you're a vital part of that." Antony leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, finally shedding that rabbit-like expression. "You are the Boy Who Lived and people need to see you out there. They believe in you and we need them to believe in us."

Harry stared back, hearing Sirius in the kitchen once more. _You're their boy, aren't you?_ "Can I have some time to think about it?" he finally said, seeing the Head Auror's shoulders relax.

"Of course. Take as much time as you need," the Head Auror said, making it clear that he expected Harry's answer to be _Yes_ and for it to be _soon_.

* * *

"Oh no, my diet," Angelina groaned when Ginny set the swiss roll on the table. She'd added flourishes of delicate caramel spirals and flushed with pride at the sounds of anticipation from her family.

"Looks wonderful, dear," Molly said, beaming up at her only daughter.

"Thanks, Mum. It's a devil's food chocolate sponge with coffee cream and dark chocolate ganache," she said, cutting the first slice and putting it on a plate. She handed it to her father, smiling as his eyes lit up in anticipation. "I wasn't going to do the caramel work, but I thought it needed a little extra something."

"I need a slice in front of me right now," Ron said, looking mournful as she passed the next slice to their mother.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "You know the rules. Just be glad Bill and Charlie aren't here tonight." Soon enough, everyone at the table was served and she was finally able to savor her own creation.

"You know, Ginny," George said, mouth full of cake, "you should audition for that thing they're doing."

"What thing?"

George frowned, glancing at Angelina for help. "Erm … that contest thing. I keep hearing about it on the wireless."

"He's talking about _Britain's Most Magical Baker_," Angelina supplied, coming to her husband's rescue. "They've been talking about it on _Magical Morning_ for weeks."

"Oh, _Magical Morning_. No wonder I haven't heard of it." Ginny took another taste of the coffee cream filling, deciding that it wasn't quite strong enough. "I've never liked Montague Benson's replacement. That new bloke is far too chummy."

"I agree with George, though. You should try out." Angelina lifted the forkful of chocolate decadence in front of her. "This is amazing and I bet if you made this for that dried up old Ostentatia Verbena, you'd be a shoo-in."

Ginny perked up at the name. "Ostentatia Verbena? Is she part of the show?" she asked, thinking of the books she had in her kitchen at home by one of the wizarding world's most renowned bakers.

"Yes! She's the nuts-and-bolts judge, the one that really knows the bakes inside and out," she said, leaning forward in excitement. "You'll never guess who they have for the celebrity judge!"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!" she said, dark eyes gleaming.

"That tosser?" Ron snorted as he cut himself another slice of cake. "What does he know about baking?"

"Probably about as much as you do, Ron," Ginny said, certain her face was flaming red. Her infatuation with the Boy Who Lived was well-known and a common source of Ron's teasing.

"Oooh, look who still has a crush on poncy Potter!" Ron taunted, giving her a ridiculous starry-eyed look.

Ginny turned away from him, focusing on Angelina. "So you really think I have a chance? I just make things at home; it's not like I know _everything_ about baking."

"I agree with George and Angelina," Molly said, patting her on the shoulder. "You know a lot more than you think you do and you must have all of Ostentatia's books." She stood up and started gathering the empty dessert plates. "And besides, if you don't try, you'll never know."

"Thanks, Mum," Ginny said, resolving to find out what she could about the audition.

* * *

"So, I finally get to sit down with Harry Potter," the journalist said, setting out a long roll of parchment and a pre-inked quill on the table.

"Erm, yeah," Harry murmured, looking over the journalist's short bio. The bloke's name was Cormac McLaggen and he'd apparently been in Gryffindor house at Hogwarts. Star Quidditch Keeper on the house team, he'd "always felt an affinity for writing and finding the truth." A list of articles he'd written for the Prophet followed and Harry couldn't help but notice that they were mostly celebrity puff pieces. _Right. Charming and wonderful, _he thought to himself, Antony Jones's words echoing in his ears.

"Do you mind if I use an automatic quill? My hand …" he said, flexing it with a wince. "Quidditch injury."

"As long as I can read it over when we're done," Harry said, uncomfortable memories of Rita Skeeter's liberties coming back to him.

"Of course," Cormac said, giving him a wide smile that Harry figured was supposed to be reassuring. "Shall we begin?" At his nod, Cormac tapped the quill with his wand and it sprang up, hovering expectantly above the parchment.

Clearing his throat, Cormac leaned forward. "Interview with Harry Potter by Cormac McLaggen for The Daily Prophet. How are you doing today, Harry?"

"Erm, I'm doing well," Harry said, hoping that he didn't sound as awkward as he thought he did. "How are you?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you for asking. Now, I understand that you're going to be helping to judge the next round of _Britain's Most Magical Baker_, is that right?"

"Yes, I suppose I am," Harry said, leaning forward and speaking directly to the quill as it scratched out his words.

"You don't need to do that," Cormac said, putting a hand on his arm. "Just speak normally as if we're having a conversation." Face flaming, Harry nodded. "Are you a fan of the show? Do you do any baking yourself?"

"No, not at all. I mean, I'm aware of the show same as anyone else, but I've never taken time to watch it or anything."

"What about the baking?"

"Oh, God no. My godfather does all of that for us. I just eat what he makes." Now that he was over his initial nervousness, Harry found himself warming up a little to the young journalist. "In fact, he's a little bit jealous that I get to go on it."

"I'm sure he'll be able to visit the set as the godfather of Harry Potter," Cormac chuckled. "Is there anything you're looking forward to the most? Any favorites?"

"I like a good chocolate biscuit with my tea," Harry said, leaning back in the chair.

"But something like that will be simple for the bakers they have on. What about something more complicated?"

Pursing his lips, Harry thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Treacle tart's always a classic, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I imagine your godfather …" he said, trailing off as he consulted his notes, "Sirius Black makes a cracking one. Now, what sort of approach are you going to take when judging these treats? Are you going mostly by looks or taste?"

"Style over substance, you mean? Well, it has to taste good, doesn't it?" Harry found himself starting to relax a bit with the chat about baking. _See, it's not so hard to be charming, is it?_ he thought as Cormac continued to give him soft, easy questions.

"Now, something I've always wondered," Cormac began, a subtle shift in his tone making Harry sit up straighter. "Have you felt, oh, I dunno, cheated that you didn't get to go to Hogwarts like the rest of us?"

Frowning, Harry looked back at the journalist. He'd allowed his attention to wander and had been looking out of the window at the bright spring day. Cormac looked back at him, an open look of curiosity on his face. _He's good._ "Well, I don't know that I feel _cheated_ exactly. I learned as much magic as you all did. Probably more."

"At the foot of greatness, no doubt. Personal lessons with Dumbledore himself, I heard." Cormac raised an eyebrow, inviting Harry to confirm or deny this particular tidbit of information about his training.

"My education was a group effort," he said, recalling how the aged wizard's blue eyes would crinkle in pleasure when Harry would master a difficult spell.

"Still, Hogwarts wasn't all about learning magic. It was about making friends and becoming part of Wizarding Society, wasn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Quidditch, man! The best game ever!" Cormac leaned closer, his voice taking on an intense tone. The automated quill seemed to pick up on his energy, scratching more enthusiastically. "Didn't you ever get to at least play that? Hold a Quaffle? Catch a Snitch? Fly among the clouds?"

_"__Come on, lad. Grab your broom. It's a full moon tonight and perfect for flying," Sirius said, tossing Harry's cloak to him. "Muggles won't notice us for a little bit tonight and if they do, they'll put it down to moon madness or some other bolllocks."_

Heart racing, Harry controlled his expression. "I'm an excellent flyer," he said, his voice notably colder and stiffer. "Do you have any other questions about the baking show?" he asked, standing up before getting an answer. Cormac stared back at him, his mouth slightly open. "All right then. Nice meeting you, Cormac. Send your article to the Department for pre-publication review when you're finished." Nodding politely, Harry left the room.

* * *

Ginny looked up from the recipe she was reading at the sound of a tapping on her window. Outside, an owl prepared to bash its beak against the glass again and she quickly went to the window, throwing it open. Warm spring air flooded her flat and she took the envelope from the owl, giving it an owl treat in exchange.

"Oh! It's from _BMMB_!" Ginny stood at the open window, barely aware of the owl flying away without a sound as she stared at the envelope, remembering the extensive audition process.

She must have filled out the application a dozen times, first trying to make sure that she portrayed herself as someone who lived and breathed baking, but then she thought that made her seem too boring. "They'll want someone that's interesting, won't they?" she'd asked Ron, showing him her application.

He'd looked it over and grinned down at her. "Just write about how much you want to meet Harry Potter and I'm sure they'll take you!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable!" she'd said, rolling up the parchment and whacking him on the shoulder with it.

With the next version, she'd painted herself as a well-rounded individual. Someone who read books, attended art things, had an interesting job and did a bit of baking on the side. Molly had been of the opinion that made her seem like she wasn't a serious enough baker.

Finally, she'd thrown up her hands and filled it out again, using plain language and portraying herself as herself. _My name is Ginny Weasley. Right now I work in Slug and Jiggers in Diagon Alley, but I won't be there for long. I learned how to bake from my mum and I love baking for family and friends. I was asked to do a wedding cake for the first time just recently and everyone thought it was beautiful and tasted much better than wedding cake usually does!_

And that one seemed to do the trick! She'd nearly fallen off her sofa when she got the Floo call asking when she'd be available to schedule an in-person interview with their casting team. _An entire team? Casting? I thought we were all supposed to be real people! _After a dizzying day spent passed around from person to person, being asked the same questions over and over again, she was released to wait once more, absolutely certain that she'd seen the last of anyone associated with _BMMB_.

It was during Sunday dinner at the Burrow that the owl came with the letter inviting her to perform an actual baking challenge at their London office. "Oooh, will Harry be there to judge?" Ron had simpered at her.

"Ron, no need to be childish," Molly had chided him. "Does it say anything about what the challenge will be, dear?"

Scanning the letter, Ginny shook her head. "No. I suppose it's meant to see if I can bake on my feet, I guess? No chance to practice; I'll just have to know it straight off." An odd fluttering rose in her gut and she took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm as her mind raced, thinking of all the things she might need to make.

After all of the worry, it turned out they wanted her to make a standard chocolate soufflé, something she felt she could do almost in her sleep. And now she had another letter from BMMB in her hands. She started to open it and stopped. "I can't."

Decision made, she closed the window before shrugging on a light jacket. Envelope firmly in one hand, she hurled a handful of Floo powder into her fireplace, calling out, "The Burrow!"

After a few moments of swirling, twirling magical transport, she stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow, waving her envelope. "Mum! Mum! It's from _BMMB_!"

Molly stood at the cooker, wiping her hands on her apron. "Are you in?" she asked, settling a lid on a simmering pot.

"I don't know! I haven't looked yet!" She handed her mother the still-unopened envelope. "You open it." Practically hopping from foot to foot, Ginny watched as Molly carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside, studying her face for any clue as to whether she'd been accepted to prove herself as one of Britain's Most Magical Bakers.

Clearing her throat, Molly read the letter out loud. "Dear Miss Weasley, we are very pleased to—"

Whooping like a wild woman, Ginny grabbed the letter out of her hands and read it herself. "We are very pleased to invite you to the fifth edition of Britain's Most Magical Baker!" Eyes wide, she looked at her mother. "Mum. I made it. I'm going to be on the show!"

"Ginny, that's wonderful! I knew you'd make it in!" Eyes sparkling, Molly smiled at her. "Now all you need to do is win!"

"Oh, is that all?" Ginny said, reading the letter once more as Molly turned back to the cooker. Sighing happily, she carefully folded the letter, sliding it back into the envelope. Joining her mother at the cooker, she had a single thought ringing in her head. _I'm going to meet Harry Potter!_


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stood in what he imagined the middle of a beehive must be like. Surrounded by s swarm of very busy people, he tried to look like he knew what he ought to be doing, wishing he had a clipboard like everyone else did. A young man rushed by carrying a rather large mirror and would have knocked Harry aside if he hadn't taken a quick step back, causing him to crash into a very harried-looking young woman.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry!" he said to the young woman as her clipboard clattered to the ground. He bent to pick it up and handed it to her. She looked about his own age and she was wearing what seemed to be the uniform for people involved in the production of _BMMB_: trainers, jeans and an oversized jumper.

"Oh, it's all—" she began, stopping when she got a good look at him. "Are you Harry Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Oh thank God! We've been looking all over for you!" Her eyes took on an unfocused look and she aimed her wand at her ear. "Justin? It's Lav. I have him," she said, stopping to listen before nodding once. "We're heading there now." Lowering her wand, she tucked her clipboard under her arm and stuck out her right hand. "I'm Lavender Brown, Ostentatia's assistant. You had a meeting with her fifteen minutes ago."

Harry shook her hand. "Sorry, I got a bit turned around," he said, gesturing to the busy people around them. "I'm not usually late for things."

"It's all right," Lavender said, smiling up at him. "The first day of production is always a bit hectic. Follow me." Seemingly picking a direction at random, Lavender charged off, leaving Harry to follow in her wake.

The production facility was like a rabbit warren and he found himself hard-pressed to keep up with all of the twists and turns. Every office and hallway seemed to be full of people, many of them shouting. _Bloody hell, I thought this all happened in a tent! What is all of this? _Catching sight of another person with a mirror, he asked the question that had been on his mind. "What's with all of the mirrors?"

Slowing her step for a moment, Lavender turned to look at him. "They're used to make the recordings. Don't you have a Mirror in your house?"

"Oh! Oh, yes," Harry said, making the connection between the big picture mirror above the lounge fireplace and the smaller ones here. "So, it's not played … live?"

"Heavens, no! There's loads more work that has to happen once they're done making the recordings," Lavender said, sounding surprised that Harry didn't already know this information.

"Of course," he said, hoping that this would be has last stupid question. _Sadly, I know it's not._

Rounding a corner, they dodged another young man carrying a tray laden with full teacups. "Dennis, watch it!" Lavender scolded as she executed a near perfect pirouette to avoid getting covered in hot tea.

"Sorry, Lav! Urgent tea emergency!" Dennis shouted as he sped past, eyes widening in surprise when he caught sight of Harry.

After a couple more turns, Lavender finally stopped. "Here we are," she said, opening the door halfway and leaning in. "Ostentatia? I have him." Opening the door fully, she stepped in, motioning for Harry to follow her.

Stepping into the office, Harry saw an older, silver-haired woman wearing very large purple cat eye glasses sitting behind a desk covered in papers and a random assortment of biscuits. Her hair practically stood up straight from her head and he took a moment to marvel at it.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet your co-judge, Ostentatia Verbena," Lavender said, gesturing to the woman now standing up behind the desk. "Ostentatia, this is Harry Potter."

Ostentatia lowered her purple cat eye glasses, looking at him over the tops. "Well, well. At last I get to meet the Boy Who Lived," she said, her voice coming out in a throaty purr.

"Erm, pleasure," Harry said, taking her hand and bowing awkwardly over it. "I'm sure I've had you many times."

"Oh do tell!" Ostentatia let out a loud guffaw of laughter and Harry colored, immediately realizing his mistake.

"Sorry! I meant your bakes! My godfather is a big fan and … Please forgive me!" Harry spluttered.

Ostentatia patted him on his hot cheek, settling her glasses back on her nose. "Dear boy, it's quite all right! That sort of thing happens more often than you'd think! Now, Lavender," she said, transforming from a flirty auntie to a capable businesswoman in the blink of an eye. "I trust we've got a good crop this round? I'm not looking forward to rock cakes cooked by a giant!"

"Yes, mum, I think you'll like this group," the assistant said, taking a manila folder from the ubiquitous clipboard and handing it to her.

Opening it, Ostentatia flipped through the photographs, turning some of them over to read the biographical information on the back. "Mm, yes, I see. Give that a look," she said, holding the folder out to Harry.

Taking the folder from her, he opened it. The first picture was of a handsome young black man looking confidently at the camera. Harry frowned, certain he'd seen him somewhere before. _Dean Thomas, eh? Let's see what you're about. _Flipping the picture over, he skimmed the biography. _West Ham, Muggleborn, learned to bake with Mum … ah, there. Battle of Hogwarts. _Harry thought back to that terrible, chaotic day and tried to place him, but failed.

Putting it out of his mind, he moved on to the next picture, a rather stern-looking older woman. _Martha Garrard. Likes to garden, well-known in her village for her restorative potions and her rat terriers. Specialty is bread. All right, then._

Harry flipped through a few more, coming to a stop at a picture of a red-haired girl. Even before he turned it over, he knew who she was. _Ginny Weasley, _he thought. Through his training with the Order, he knew Arthur, but he'd never had the time for friends his age growing up. _And getting ready to kill a man._

Mentally shaking himself, he turned the photograph over, allowing his eyes to trace the contours of Ginny's face once more. _Ginny Weasley is an apprentice potions master at Slug and Jiggers and an avid Quidditch fan, supporting the Holyhead Harpies. She says growing up with six older brothers is what drove her into the kitchen at a young age, baking with her mum, Molly. She lost one brother, Fred, at the Battle of Hogwarts and she says she hopes to meet Harry Potter in person one day so she can thank him for defeating the Dark Lord. Her specialty is cakes._

He turned the paper over, looking at the picture again. _Well, Ginny Weasley, looks like it's your lucky day._ He turned to the next picture, a weedy-looking young man called Lucas and was just about to read the biographical information when he realized Ostentatia was speaking to him. "Sorry?" he said, looking up, wincing inwardly at the look of exasperation on her face.

"I asked you if you've ever judged anything. Any sort of competition," she said. She was seated once more behind her desk and Harry sank down into one of the visitor's chairs across from her, setting the manila envelope of pictures on top of the desk.

"I've done interrogations," he said, noting Ostentatia's look of surprise.

She took off her glasses, tucking one purple-hued temple tip into the corner of her mouth. "Have you really? I would have thought the Ministry kept you tucked safely away," she said, her voice coming out in a sort of drawl that made Harry think of drinking tea with his pinky finger stuck out.

Bristling at her insinuation that he was merely a showpiece, Harry forced himself to smile. _Charming, charming, charming. _"Hardly. They trained me, so you can bet they're going to use me." He leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee, projecting the calm, unconcerned air that he'd used in the aforementioned interrogation room.

Unaware of her insult, Ostentatia nodded. "Well, this is a bit of a different sort of interrogation, you'll find. Lavender, can we get some tea and biscuits?" she asked, dismissing the assistant from her mind once the order was issued. Leaning forward, she put her glasses back on, her brown eyes looking gigantic behind the lenses. "Now, today they'll be baking cakes for us. One of the most important features is the crumb. You want light and airy, not heavy and stodgy."

Harry let his mind drift as Ostentatia went on, lecturing him about the finer points of crumb, texture and the merits of Italian buttercream versus American. Lavender came back with tea and a plate of dark brown ginger biscuits. As the ginger flavor spread across his tongue, another quite different sort of ginger came to mind. _She works at Slug and Jiggers. I'll have to ask Sirius if he's low on anything._

* * *

Ginny sat, perched on the edge of what was likely a very comfortable armchair, too nervous to sink down into it. When she'd arrived at the studio, a run-down building with illusory broken windows and doors, a young man had ushered her through security, weighing her wand in a very complicated-looking device.

"Am I still Ginny Weasley?" she'd asked, only half-joking. The whole place looked like an anthill that had been stirred up with a stick with people scurrying around, carrying mirrors, papers, tea and bits of clothing. Everyone seemed to have a clipboard.

The young man gave her a distracted smile as he wrote down the wand's wood, core, length and weight on a form on his clipboard. "Now, if you'll come with me," he said, striding off into the whirling maelstrom of people.

Ginny had to jog a few steps to catch up. "When do I meet the other contestants?"

"You won't meet until you're all in the tent."

"Oh! That's unexpected." She followed him around a couple of corners, feeling like her head was on a gimbal as she tried to look at everything around her. "Where is the tent? Do we Apparate there?"

"Not quite," he said, finally coming to a stop in front of a door with the _BMMB_ logo on it. He opened the door and ushered her in. "Now, you have a bit of a rest in here. There's some refreshments and if you need anything else, tap your wand on that red button there and someone will answer you."

Ginny stepped into the room and looked around, taking in the armchair and small table with a steaming pot of tea and assorted biscuits laid on it. The walls were hung with framed photographs of past _BMMB_ winners, every single one of them beaming with delight as they hoisted their engraved cake plates.

The door shut with a click and she turned around, not entirely surprised to see her erstwhile guide gone. "I'm sure he had something to attend to," Ginny said to the empty room, trying not to feel like she'd already been kicked out of the competition. Not finding anything else to do and too nervous to try any of the biscuits, she sat down on the chair.

She was just contemplating one of the ginger biscuits when she heard the door open. Heart leaping, she looked towards it, completely surprised to see a familiar face. "Oh, it _is_ you!" Parvati Patil said, nearly jumping up and down in excitement. "I saw your name on the list and I just about went spare!"

"Parvati? What are you doing here? Are you in the show, too?" Jumping up from her seat, Ginny hugged her fellow Gryffindor, some of her nerves deserting her at last.

Stepping back, Parvati surveyed her at arm's length, sending Ginny back to their school days when she would ask her older housemate for fashion advice. "No, I can't bake to save my life, you know that! I'm a production assistant. Well, more like a glorified gofer," she said, rolling her eyes. "In fact, I'm meant to be fetching you to the tent! We better get going or we'll be late!"

Parvati chivvied her out of the door and set off down the hallway, leaving Ginny to follow in her wake. _Blimey, everyone must walk fast around here! I'll have to grow longer legs!_ Listening to Parvati's endless stream of chatter, Ginny lost all sense of direction and nearly crashed into Parvati's back when they stopped in front of what looked like a plain brick wall.

"Are you ready?" she asked, turning to look at Ginny. She adjusted Ginny's blouse and looked expectantly at her.

Ginny's heart was racing, her palms were sweating and she was sure her head was about to roll off of her neck, but she managed to nod. Grinning, Parvati held her wand to her ear. "I've got Ginny Weasley ready to come through," she said, obviously speaking to someone remotely. "Yeah, all right." Looking up, she mouthed _Thirty seconds, _sending Ginny's heart rate skyrocketing.

After what felt like an eternity, Parvati nodded at a prompt only she could hear and tapped a brick in the wall with her wand. Much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, the bricks melted away, revealing a sunny, bucolic landscape. There, in the middle of a sea of impossibly green grass, was the iconic white tent, rising up like some sort of majestic ship.

Transfixed, Ginny forgot all about her racing heart and sweaty palms, staring at the implausible scene before her, coming back to herself when Parvati prodded her with her clipboard. "Go on," she said, dark eyes sparkling with delight at her amazement. Certain that she was in a trance, Ginny stepped forward.

* * *

Ostentatia was deep into a treatise on the merits of different varieties of biscuits and what level of snap they should all have when Lavender stuck her head into the office, rousing Harry from his biscuit-induced trance.

"Hair and makeup, mum," she said, ducking back out.

"Well, time to get fussed over." Ostentatia rose from her seat and Harry followed, shaking out the pins-and-needles sensation from sitting so long.

"Erm, will I need to be fussed over?" he asked, opening the door for his co-host.

Ostentatia paused for a moment, looking at him over the tops of her glasses once more. "I suppose you'll need less fussing than I do to make you presentable for the mirrors, but they'll fuss at you nonetheless. Come on!" As she passed by him to exit the office, she patted his cheek, much as a granny would.

Or Harry assumed as a granny would, never having had a gran of his own, but he found the familiarity of the gesture shocking. Unsure of what else to do, he followed Ostentatia and closed the door. _Maybe she does that sort of thing with everyone?_

He found the hustle and bustle a little less confusing this time as they zipped over to a large room that was full of plush leather seats in front of huge mirrors lined with blazing lights. Harry blinked several times, the contrast with the dim hall they'd just left almost making his eyes sting.

A few moments later and he was plonked down in one of the seats in front of a mirror, the lights seeming to pick up every flaw. His dismay must have been obvious because the makeup artist behind him grinned, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, don't worry about that! The lights make everyone look terrible!" she said, mouth turning into an O of surprise. "Oh my days, I've just insulted Harry Potter!"

"Oh, please, don't worry about it," Harry said, waving his hand in front of his reflection. "You should see what they say about me in the Prophet!" He gave a disarming chuckle, pleased to see the makeup artist relax. He didn't relish the idea of someone full of nerves trying to make him presentable for the mirrors. _Whatever that means._

Reassured, the makeup artist got to work, introducing herself as Jocelyn and starting up a long string of chatter. She seemed naturally bubbly, only frowning when her tools had no discernible impact on his hair. After several minutes, she sighed and gave up, turning her attention to his face. She took off his glasses and set them aside. "Your eyes are very green," she remarked as she powdered his face with what looked like a dead pygmy puff. Harry hoped it wasn't.

"Are they okay for the … mirrors?" Harry ventured, trying not to breathe in too much of the powder flying around his face.

"Oh, they'll show up a treat!" Taking a step back, she surveyed her work. "Now, what do you think of these?"

Harry was about to ask, "Think of what?" when she flourished a whole tray of glasses in front of of him. "Oh. I don't just wear my own?" He looked over the collection, some of which seemed more suited to that singer Sirius said his mum was wild over when they were young.

"You can, but Wardrobe was hoping for something a bit more … photogenic," Jocelyn said, the very picture of diplomacy.

"I see." He looked them over, trying on a few different pair before settling on a pair with rectangular, tortoise shell frames.

Jocelyn nodded in approval. "Good choice," she said, picking up his actual glasses. "Goes better with your face than these round ones. Accentuates those cheekbones of yours." She tapped his glasses with her wand and then the ones he was wearing and his vision snapped into sharp focus. "All right?"

"Yeah, perfect." Harry looked at his reflection, noting that he still looked mostly the same, but his skin seemed to have a finer texture now and that scar on his chin from a childhood fall had been erased.

There was one more scar, however. Jocelyn pushed his fringe back and Harry's fingers tightened on the chair's armrests instead of batting her hands away like he wanted to. Holding his hair back with one hand, she pulled a slim pencil out of the apron tied around her waist. "What's that for?"

"We're going to darken this a little so it shows up better on mirror," she said, bringing the pencil closer to the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

"No," Harry said, leaning his head back. She lost her grip on his fringe and he felt a deep sense of relief as his hair covered the scar again. Jocelyn looked at him, pencil still poised in midair and nodded before putting it away.

"All right. I do need to put a bit of color on your lips. Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course. Sorry, about ..." he said, hoping he hadn't frightened her; he quite liked her chattiness.

"It's no bother! Here, give me a pout!" A few swift strokes later, his lips had more color than he'd ever seen before and he felt a bit off-balance. After surveying her work, Jocelyn gave him another one of her scrunch-nosed grins. "Now you're ready to visit Wardrobe."

"I suppose it's too much to ask if I can just wear this?" he said, motioning to his all-black ensemble.

"No, love. They need you to stand out, not lurk in the shadows. Here's Lav to collect you."

In the mirror, Harry saw Ostentatia's assistant looking at him, obviously appraising the changes before smiling. "He looks great, Joss," she said, motioning for him to get up and follow her. Another quick walk and before he knew it, Harry was in the middle of another maelstrom, but this time he had only his pants to defend him.

The wardrobe mistress looked him up and down, clearly measuring him with only her eyes and started holding clothes up against him, including a red plaid monstrosity that Sirius would have said was more suited to the Upper Class Twit of the Year. Taking pity on his pleading eyes, she set him up with a simple blue checked button-down shirt and a pair of khaki trousers.

Almost as if summoned by magic, Lavender reappeared as soon as he slipped his feet into the butter-soft loafers. "Oh, Liz, he looks smashing!" she said, nodding at the wardrobe mistress. "Ostentatia's ready, so we need to get a move on!"

"Where's the tent? Do we Apparate there?" Harry asked as he followed Lavender through the maze of hallways again.

Lavender slowed her steps a fraction and smiled at him. "Don't make me spoil the surprise! Look, there's Ostentatia." Harry saw his co-host standing next to a featureless brick wall, chatting to a tall man with yet another clipboard.

"Ah, there he is! Harry, I want you to meet Devin, our director," Ostentatia said, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

Harry shook hands with Devin and thought about asking what all he would be directing since there wasn't any sort of script, but thought better of it, standing next to Ostentatia. She reached out and adjusted his collar, brushing her hand along his shoulder.

"Harry. Thank you so much for agreeing to help us out this season," Devin said, looking through the papers clipped to his clipboard.

_Very neatly done, Mr Director, _Harry thought, noting that he'd left unsaid the fact that Head Auror Jones had called the people in charge of _BMMB_ and told them that Harry would be their new celebrity judge, like it or not. "Oh, no worries. I'm quite looking forward to it," he said, plastering his most charming smile on his face. "Erm, where is the tent?"

Devin glanced up from his notes, looking surprised to see Harry there in front of him. "Hmm? Oh, the tent. Yes." His eyes lost focus and he seemed to be listening to something. "Right. Yes. Get the entrances. Closeups on faces. Ta." Clearly dismissing Harry from his thoughts, he addressed Ostentatia directly. "A few more minutes, mum. Let them get settled."

Ostentatia and Lavender chatted quietly and Devin continued to listen to … someone as the hustle and bustle continued around them, leaving Harry feeling rather superfluous until he sensed a sort of electricity in the air surrounding them.

"All right, then. Let's meet our contestants." Devin took his wand and tapped a brick in the wall and Harry was only a little surprised to see the bricks fall away, much as they did at the entrance to Diagon Alley, revealing a stunning, pastoral scene.

Bright blue sky and a blazing sun shone down on carefully manicured green grass and a little ways off in the distance, Harry saw the shining white tent. _Oh my God, it's real. I'm really going to go in there._ He was so mesmerized by the sight of the iconic tent that he nearly jumped when Ostentatia put a hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention back to the director.

"Now, you and Ostentatia are going to walk to the tent. Not too fast, not too slow, all right? We're not going to be capturing any sound, but find something to chat about," he said, stepping out onto the grass. Another man, this one holding a medium-sized mirror on some sort of pole, appeared next to him. The mirror was pointed at him and Ostentatia, but Harry couldn't see any reflection in it.

Facing them, Devin and the mirror man started walking backwards towards the tent and Harry made to follow them but stopped at the director's frown and raised hand. Embarrassed, he waited until Devin nodded and made a come-hither gesture, stepping out with Ostentatia next to him.

"So are we still in the building?" he asked, burning with curiosity about the setup.

"Oh yes. Can you imagine trying to set all of this up in the real countryside? You'd have to be mad to try and manage all of the logistics!" Ostentatia said, sweeping an arm to encompass the whole area.

Squinting, Harry could make out another brick wall way at the other side of the field and he looked up, amazed at the perfect blue sky and shining sun. "This is just amazing. I don't think I've ever seen anything like this."

Ostentatia cocked her head at him and gave him a gentle smile. "Of course. I keep forgetting you didn't go to Hogwarts. The Great Hall is enchanted to mimic the sky outside."

"Oh. Well, the Great Hall wasn't … I don't think I noticed that particular feature when I was there," Harry said, remembering crumbled stone and a floor strewn with shrouded figures.

"Of course," she said, patting him on the arm. They came to a small creek with a charming, decorative bridge spanning it and paused for a moment to allow a family of ducks to cross in front of them.

"Amazing," Harry said, shaking his head once more.

* * *

_I feel like I should pinch myself to see if I'm actually here! In the tent! Where it all happens!_ Ginny thought, struggling with the urge to let out a high-pitched squeal. She looked all around, taking in the workstations with their spotless worktops and gleaming baking tools, feeling like her eyes couldn't settle on just one thing.

Only peripherally aware of the people following her every move with their mirrors, she stepped over to the nearest workstation, running the tips of her fingers over the immaculate stand mixer. The brand name caught her eye and she sighed, recalling when she'd seen this very model in a shop window at Diagon Alley.

"Mum, look at that," she'd said, pointing it out to Molly. Just then, the sunlight hit it, making the stainless steel accents shine. The both of them had stood outside the shop, admiring the device and discussing its merits and drawbacks until her brother Ron ambled up.

Laden with packages, he'd glanced at the mixer and snorted. "You'd have a job trying to afford that on your shopgirl salary," he said before turning away. Ginny looked back at the beautiful machine in the window and nodded once. _One day._

_And now I get to use one all the time!_ _Well, for as long as I last, at any rate. _Dismissing her sometimes combative brother from her mind, she continued her inspection of the workstation, bending over to peek into the oven.

"Now that's a sight I haven't seen in a while." Ginny jumped and stood up straight, whirling around to see Dean Thomas standing at the workstation behind hers, the wide grin she remembered so well splitting his face.

"Oh my goodness! Dean!" Rushing around the station, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight, all awareness of the crew and production people in the tent with them going out of the window. His warm laugh surrounded her and she stepped back, taking him in. "You've made a few changes!"

Dean smiled and ran his hand over his short, curly hair that was now nearly platinum. "You like?" he asked, a tinge of self-consciousness in his voice.

Ginny cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips, taking in the hair and the shiny gold hoops in each ear. "It's a change, that's for sure!"

"I reckon I have to do something to stand out, don't I?" Dean looked around at the tent. Another contestant had come in while they'd been chatting, the older woman looking like she'd just seen a unicorn. "Besides, Seamus likes it," he whispered, leaning in close.

His closeness made her cheeks color and she became aware of the young man directly behind Dean, capturing her every move with his mirror. "Oh, well, you can't really argue with that, can you?" she said, stepping away from him.

"You could, but then you'd be sleeping alone!" Dean said, clapping his hands as they broke up into laughter. Ginny marveled at the confidence he displayed. "Hey, have you heard who the celebrity judge is?"

Ginny glanced around, checking to see how alone they were. "You mean Harry Potter?" she said in a low voice, hoping she hadn't just turned into an overripe tomato in front of her old boyfriend.

"Yes! Girl!" Dean faked a swoon, making her laugh again. "Do you still have a crush on him?"

"Crushes are so immature, don't you think?"

Dean shook his head at her, crossing his arms. "So that's a yes."

"Please don't say anything. I would die and then come back and haunt you," Ginny whispered as yet another contestant entered the tent.

* * *

Harry walked into the lounge and fell backwards onto the leather sofa, letting out a loud groan.

"How was your day, oh charming one?" Sirius asked, putting down the book he was reading. He looked quite cozy with his stocking feet up on the ottoman and a cup of tea on the side table. Harry wanted to kick him.

"I am made of cake," he said, letting his head fall back against the cushion and closing his eyes.

"Are you now? What sort?"

"All of them. Think of a cake. I've eaten it." Harry turned his head and looked at his godfather, glad to see the half-smile on his face. "What d'you know about Ostentatia Verbena?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno. Did you know her at school? Or hang out or whatever?"

Sirius gave a rumbly laugh. "Harry, how old do you think I am? Old Ozzie has at least twenty years on me. Besides, when would we _hang out_? I've been cooped up with your grumpy arse these last twenty-odd years."

"Twenty-two," Harry said absently. "Listen, come with me next time. I, erm, need someone to run a bit of interference, yeah?"

Sirius stood up and stretched, heading toward the stairs down to the kitchen. "Come on, I've got a pie in the oven."

"Steak and kidney, I hope. I think I have diabetes from all of that cake." Harry groaned again as he got up from the sofa, rubbing his stomach before following Sirius.

In the kitchen, he breathed deeply of the blessedly savory smells and took a beer out of the icebox before settling down in one of the battered old chairs.

"So what's got you so riled up that you need me to protect you?" Sirius asked after closing the oven door. He got a beer for himself and sat down across from Harry.

"I'm not riled," Harry said defensively, taking a sip of his beer. "It's just she's a bit … I dunno … handsy."

"Handsy?"

"Yeah, she's just always … touching."

"She putting her hands on your bum?" Sirius asked, his voice sharp.

Harry felt the blood rush to his face at his godfather's question. "No! She's just sort of always _right there_ and she's got a hand on my arm or she sneaks up behind me and there's a hand on my back." He took another swallow of beer. "I never knew old bints like her could move so quiet!"

Sirius laughed, the sound filling the stone-floored kitchen and Harry sunk down in his chair, fervently wishing that a hole would open up and swallow him. "It's weird, Sirius. She's old enough to be my gran!"

"Don't worry. I'll come and protect you from the randy granny." Still chuckling, he got up and opened the oven again, taking the pie out and setting it on top of the cooker to cool. "Fancy a salad?"

"Yeah, all right." Harry tapped his fingernail against the beer bottle. "Ginny Weasley is in the competition."

"Arthur's girl? I didn't know she baked. How'd she do?"

"I don't know if I'm allowed to say before it's broadcast."

"Well, I daresay I'll know all the secrets shortly if I'm on set keeping Randy Granny away from you." Sirius set the wooden bowl of salad down in front of Harry.

"She did well," he said, helping himself to something that wasn't cake. "They had to make a Victoria sponge today and I liked hers the best, though Ostentatia said it was a bit dry."

Sirius grunted and set the cooled shepherd's pie on the table. "Whose did she like?"

"There's a boy called Dean Thomas. I thought his was okay. The jam was a bit runny if you ask me." Harry served up a healthy portion of the pie, rather surprised that he had any appetite at all. "But what do I know? I'm just there to be charming and make the department look good. Ostentatia's the real authority there."

Sirius looked at him, a small smile on his lips. "Look on the bright side. Just think of all the cakes and pies and biscuits you'll get to eat over the next few weeks!" he said cheerfully, digging into his salad.

_It's not the biscuits I'm looking forward to, _he thought, remembering the look on Ginny Weasley's face when he declared her Victoria sponge his favorite.

* * *

Ginny entered the kitchen and dropped into her favorite of the mismatched chairs that surrounded the family kitchen table at the Burrow. "Mum, I'm absolutely knackered," she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh, what's so difficult about baking all day?" her mother said from her position in front of the cooker where she was involved with what looked like a dangerously large pot.

"See, now that's what I thought. Oh, I'm just going to be measuring, mixing and decorating. What's the big deal?" She blew out a breath and shook her head. "What I didn't reckon with was the tension! Mum, it doesn't look like it, but that tent is packed to the rafters with people! They're constantly looking at you and watching what you're doing! And they all have clipboards!"

"Can't you ignore them?"

Ginny sighed and crossed her arms. _Yeah, ignore Harry Potter, in the flesh as he stands there and smiles at you and asks you things like what's your favorite thing to bake and how long have you been baking and can I have a bit of that? It looks delicious and here I am thinking, no _you_ look delicious as I crack an egg and get eggshells all in!_ "No, Mum. You have to be engaging when they come up to you," was all she said.

"I'm sure you have no problem with that!" Molly put a lid on the enormous pot and adjusted the fire underneath. After wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she poured them both a cup of tea from the perpetually ready pot that always seemed to be the exact right temperature. "So, how did you do today?" she asked, sitting down across from Ginny.

"All right, I think. Today was sort of the intro, right? Cakes. We did two things today and I made that chocolate orange one that Dad likes and we all had to do a Victoria Sponge." Ginny poured a bit of milk into her tea and stirred it. "Dead easy."

"So they liked yours the best, then?" Molly smiled at her over the rim of her mug.

"Ostentatia said my Victoria Sponge was dry and a bit overbaked," Ginny said, shrugging. "Oh, I forgot to tell you—Dean is in it, too!"

"Is he? How is he doing?" Molly asked, a look of surprise on her face. "He was always such a nice boy. So polite."

"He's doing well! You should see his hair now! He's gone all platinum! It looks really good on him and he says Seamus likes it. Anyway, the reason why I thought of him is because he was having trouble getting his jam to set right, but he had to go with it because time ran out."

"So he didn't do well?"

"That's the thing! Ostentatia liked his the best! She said it was 'wonderfully moist' and Dean said to me later that he thought he was going to get the boot because most of the jam had seeped into the sponge!"

"Well, I suppose that's the way judging goes." Molly patted Ginny's hand and stood up to check on the giant pot again.

"It wasn't all bad," Ginny said, glad her mother was facing away from her and couldn't see the blush that rose to her cheeks. "Harry Potter said he liked my sponge the best out of all of them."


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius stared around and Harry could tell that he was bursting with curiosity at all of the people running around as if they were working very hard to keep the world spinning on its axis. He saw Sirius's eyes following a parade of young men, the one in the lead carrying a large presentation mirror with three others following, juggling smaller mirrors with their clipboards. The group disappeared around a corner and as Harry turned away from watching them, Lavender popped up seemingly out of nowhere.

"Good morning, Harry!" she said, her voice and eyes bright. "Are you ready for another day? It's bread today!"

"Oh, bread! That's fantastic!" Harry put his hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Listen, I hope you don't mind, but I've brought a guest. This is—"

"Sirius Black," he said, holding out his hand to Lavender. "I'm Harry's godfather and he came back so full of stories about this place that I just had to see it for myself."

Lavender shook his hand, clearly bemused and for a moment, Harry worried that she'd say that Sirius had to go, but she smiled. "Welcome, Mr Black! We're very glad to have you here today," she said, making a note on her clipboard. "Now, if you'll follow me, Harry's got to meet with Ostentatia to go over the day's events."

Turning around, she set off at top speed, leaving Harry and Sirius to follow. A moment later, Sirius joined Lavender up front as they wove through the warren of hallways that made up the production studio, peppering her with questions. Harry tuned them out, letting his mind wander.

_Bread this week. How many different sorts of bread are there? Wholemeal, white, rye … erm … Well, I suppose me and Ostentatia will have a nice long chat all about it. _He sighed, looking up just in time to step out of the way of a woman rolling a whole rack of dresses. "Sorry, love!" she yelled over her shoulder as she whizzed past.

Shaken out of his bread reverie, Harry's mind turned toward the contestants. _Shame about Liam last time, but his Victoria sponge was more like a Victoria pancake. Ginny Weasley did well, though. So did that Dean and … Ella? Emma? I guess I better refresh myself on who's who. Getting a name wrong won't really be the best for the department, would it?_

That last thought made him think about his last meeting with Antony Jones who practically crowed in delight at his report of his first filming session. "When does it come out? When will everyone be able to see our boy on their mirrors?" he'd asked.

"Erm, I don't know, sir. I suppose I'll ask when I go back," Harry had answered, well aware of those rabbity blue eyes drilling into him.

"See that you do! We'll want to get the department together and watch!" Dismissed, Harry left, inwardly dying at that thought of the entire Auror department watching him make an arse out of himself on _Britain's Most Magical Baker._

Paying attention, he realized they were almost to Ostentatia's office and he smiled, looking forward to his co-host's attention being diverted away from him by his suave godfather.

* * *

Ginny smoothed down her jumper as she turned around, eyeing her reflection critically. _Is black really the way to go? It's bread today, so there'll be flour everywhere, but we have aprons … and it goes so well with this skirt._ She ran her hands over the black watch plaid skirt, tugging it down a little bit. _Do I look like a sweet, demure baker?_ Ostentatia's face seemed to appear in the mirror, her pinched mouth pulled down into a frown.

_Well, let's not borrow trouble, all right?_ Banishing the image from her mind, Ginny stepped into her most comfortable loafers, knowing that she'd be on her feet most of the day. _All right, Weasley. It's go time._ She left her room, slipping on her jacket by the door, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach as she prepared to Apparate to the studio. She brushed aside the momentary thought—_Do I have butterflies for competing again or seeing Harry Potter today?_

She arrived at the studio and was immediately surrounded by the chaos that was almost starting to be familiar. Production assistants, or PA's as she'd learned they were called, scurried to and fro, all of them clutching clipboards. Some of them had their wands to their ears, speaking urgently to someone only they could hear.

Expecting Parvati to show up at any moment to collect her, Ginny waited, watching everyone hard at work at creating entertainment. One woman whizzed by, a whole rack of clothes following close behind like a well-trained dog. A man and a woman deep in conversation passed close by and she caught a few words.

"We have third act problems," the man said, his voice low and urgent.

The woman shook her head in disagreement. "No, it's not the third act that's the problem. You have no hero's journey in the second act." They passed her and the sound of their argument faded away.

Bemused, Ginny continued to wait, her hopes of Parvati coming for her dimming. _Maybe I'm meant to find my own way myself?_ She found the prospect quite daunting as she hadn't really paid attention to directions the last time she'd been there. _I'll give her a few more minutes. Maybe she got caught up in a tea emergency,_ she thought, recalling tiny Dennis Creevey speeding past with a laden tea tray. _I'd wondered where he ended up. I wonder if Colin would have ended up here as well?_

After several more minutes had passed and no smiling Parvati showed up, Ginny gathered her courage and stepped out into the tumult. She headed towards a landmark that looked a bit familiar, a mural of Lawrence the storytelling welsh green dragon. _I used to love Lawrence when I was little. _In her mind, she heard his trademark deep chortling laugh. _Now, is it turn left at Lawrence or right?_ Shrugging, she turned left, passing through a very small, very fake forest that she thought she remembered, but couldn't be sure. Continuing on in her haphazard fashion, she finally spotted a door that said _BMMB _in glittery gold letters.

Relief swept over her and she pushed open the door to be greeted by the sight of Harry Potter looking very comfortable in an overstuffed leather chair.

* * *

"Ozzie," Sirius said, smiling expansively as he shook Ostentatia Verbena's beringed hand. "I'm sorry, that's rude of me. Do you prefer Ostentatia?"

Harry watched as Ostentatia grinned back, her free hand fluttering over her heart. "Oh, why, Mr Black! Ozzie is … fine, I suppose …"

Sirius's eyebrows went up and he leaned in close, putting his head next to hers. "Mr Black is my dad," he said in a low voice, speaking out of the corner of his mouth as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Sirius will do for me."

Harry shook his head, simply in awe of how easily Sirius flattered Ostentatia, inserting himself as a person-of-interest in her orbit as she smiled up at him. He glanced over at Lavender, seeing her similarly enraptured. _Now that's one skill I need to learn. _Clearing his throat, he tried to divert his co-judge's attention. "Erm, it's bread this week, right?"

"Bread?" Ostentatia looked at him, her expression blank for a moment before recovering. "Yes, bread week! A true test of skill that should show us who the real frontrunners are." She turned to Sirius, taking his hand. "Sirius, you look like you know your way around a loaf. What's your favorite sort?"

"Ah, well, that depends on what I'm in the mood for. Sometimes nothing but a good, crusty sourdough will suit, but for an eggy bread breakfast, you need something a bit more delicate."

"Like a nice brioche," Ostentatia said, moving down the hallway towards her office. Feeling like a forgotten glove, Harry trailed after the pair. "Oh, Harry," Ostentatia said, sounding like she'd finally realized he was there. "Why don't you head over and get yourself sorted for the mirrors? We'll have plenty of time to chat later."

Following her into her office, Sirius waggled his eyebrows and made a shooing motion at him, grinning when Harry rolled his eyes. Door shut practically in his face, Harry stared, hardly believing what had just happened.

_Thrown over for my forty-five year-old godfather. Just like that._ Harry put his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. _Thank God._ He noticed that Lavender had made herself scarce and for a moment he felt almost giddy at the prospect of not having a minder in all of the hubbub.

Picking a direction, he headed off down the hallway, trying to look like he knew where he was going and what he was doing. He glanced inside one open room, looking quickly away when he saw a young man slumped down in a chair. He was crying and a dark-haired woman was rubbing his back, obviously trying to get him to calm down.

"You know Mark Robinson's a twat," Harry heard the woman say as he walked quickly away, face burning in secondhand embarrassment.

Turning left around a corner, he thought he spotted a door that looked familiar and opened it. "Finally! Where's the tea we asked for half an hour ago?" A man sitting behind a desk covered with an impossibly long roll of parchment squinted at him.

"I hope he hasn't forgotten the Jaffa cakes again," said a woman with messy blonde hair. She had several quills stuck all through her hair, making her look like some sort of odd feathered variety of porcupine. "You haven't forgotten them, have you?"

"Erm, sorry. I'll just—" Harry said, backing away and closing the door.

After almost getting run down by an autonomous tea trolley, sparkly gold letters caught his eye and he turned, seeing a door emblazoned with _BMMB_. Almost afraid of what he might find, Harry opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of comfy leather club chairs and a well-stocked refreshments table. _I've managed to find the green room on my own. Excellent. _He sat down in one of the large leather club chairs, glancing at the table laden with food. _We're going to do nothing but eat all day. Why even have that?_ he wondered.

He'd just picked up one of the glossy gossip rags from the coffee table when Ginny Weasley walked into the room. Harry had a moment to take in her figure in the black jumper and tartan skirt before she realized he was there.

"Oh, no! I'm all turned around!" she said when she saw him. Her cheeks turned pink in embarrassment and Harry felt a corresponding heat rise in his own cheeks.

"No, it's all right. Come and sit down," Harry said, motioning to the empty chair across from him.

"I don't know if that's allowed." Ginny stepped forward, looking like she expected to get shouted at by someone with a clipboard.

"It'll be fine. Do they think I'm going to give you pointers and help you cheat?" He spread his hands wide in and exaggerated show of innocence and smiled. "I'm rubbish at baking."

Encouraged, Ginny fully entered the room and sat down in the chair he'd indicated, pushing her long red hair behind her ears. She smiled back at him and nodded to the food-covered table. "Why do they have that in here? All we're going to do all day is eat."

Harry let out a surprised bark of laughter. "That's exactly what I thought! Although I suppose you're going to be baking and we're going to be the ones eating."

"Oh, well, I have to taste as I go, don't I?," she said, immediately covering her face. "I'm so sorry!"

"For what?" Harry asked, thoroughly enchanted by her wit. He leaned in closer, trying to meet her downcast eyes, aware of the silly grin stretching across his face.

Visibly composing herself, Ginny sat up straight, setting her hands primly on her knees. "That was not a proper way for a contestant to address a judge. My apologies, Mr Potter, for sounding entirely too forward."

The twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips belied her somber tone and Harry shook his head. He settled back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at her. "Mr Potter. Now that's more like it. About time I got some respect around here."

"Is that what you're after? Respect?"

"Isn't that what everyone is after?"

Ginny pursed her lips and nodded. "I suppose. Myself, I'm in it for the prize."

"Are you really?" Harry frowned. "I don't even know what the prize is."

"Are you serious?" Ginny's mouth fell open and then quickly closed it again. "It's a complete set of baking equipment like what we use in the tent. And a cake plate." She shook her head at him, looking like she was genuinely dismayed. "How can you not know that? Don't you watch the show?"

Harry shrugged. "Nah, not really my thing, is it?"

"What _is_ your thing, then? Catching bad guys? Throwing them to the Dementors in Azkaban?"

Shifting a little in the chair, Harry looked away from Ginny and tried not to shrug again. "Mm, more like that's what I was taught, yeah?"

"That was rude of me," she said after a moment of silence. "I shouldn't be here. I'll see you in the tent."

"No, stay," Harry said, holding up his hand as she made to stand up. "I … it wasn't rude. Listen, I know your dad. Arthur, right?"

Surprised, Ginny sat back down in the chair, smoothing her skirt over her knees. "Yeah, Arthur Weasley is my dad. How d'you know him?"

"He taught me some Muggle stuff. For my … training. I had to know how to blend in, just in case."

"Hold on." Ginny held up her hand and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. "My dad, possibly the most awkward wizard ever, taught you how to _blend in_ with Muggles?"

"Yeah. He was dead good at it, too." Harry stared at Ginny as she shook with laughter, collapsing back into the chair. "What? Are you having me on?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's just …" she said, pausing a moment to wipe her eyes and catch her breath. "It's just unexpected, is all. All my life he's just been my bumbling dad with his little workshop full of Muggle bits and bobs. It's like finding out my dad has been a secret agent this whole time!"

"Well—"

Just then, Sirius ambled into the room, heading straight for the table of plenty. He took his time making his selections, piling a plate high.

"Not everyone gets to have treats practically thrown at them," he said, settling down in the last empty chair. He held out his hand and introduced himself. "Sirius Black."

"Ginny Weasley," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm one of the competitors. I'm probably not supposed to be here."

"Pah, what're they afraid of?" Sirius pointed at Harry with a raw baby carrot. "That one couldn't bake his way out of a paper bag. There's no way you're getting any hints from him."

"Hey, I made that thing that one time," Harry said, noticing the smile Ginny covered with her hand.

Ignoring him, Sirius sat back in the club chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. "Now, me on the other hand. I'm dangerous in the kitchen."

"Are you now? How come you didn't audition, then?" Ginny asked, her cheeks pink with amusement.

"Well, I don't want to show up all of the bright young stars, do I?"

Harry shook his head at Sirius's flirting. He opened his mouth to extemporize on his godfather's kitchen skills, intending to tell the story of the Christmas pudding that almost burned down the house, but Ostentatia entered the room, her gray eyes focusing on Ginny in an instant. Lavender followed a moment later.

"Oh my dear, I'm afraid you're in the wrong place," she said, the pleasant smile on her face at odds with her tone. "Lav, can you please see that Miss Weasley is guided back to where she belongs?"

Lavender nodded, her wand already next to her right ear. "Yes, mum," she said before murmuring quietly.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Ginny flushed a brilliant red. "I'm sorry! I got all turned around and I thought this was …" She trailed off and a moment later, a very harried-looking Parvati Patil entered the room.

"There you are! I was going spare and thought I'd lost you! We're nearly ready!" she said, holding her hand out to Ginny.

Ginny stood up, smoothing the back of her skirt. "I … it was nice meeting you, Mr Black," she said, all schoolgirl politeness before she practically scuttled out of the room, hot on Parvati's heels.

Ostentatia gave a little sniff and promptly sat down in the chair Ginny had just vacated, turning her attention to Harry. "Now Harry, today is bread day and it can be quite difficult to judge a good loaf from a bad one. We have about thirty minutes before we need to start." She reached out and put a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. "How about I teach you some of the finer points of good bread?"

"Erm, all right." Harry shifted around, trying to gracefully get his knee out from underneath Ostentatia's grasping fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sirius trying to hide his grin in his teacup.

* * *

"Well right now I'm kneading the dough to develop the gluten," Ginny said, trying to focus on the sticky ball in her hands instead of the fuzzy microphone hovering over her head.

"And what does that do?" Luna Lovegood asked, leaning over the worktop and taking a deep breath. "It smells wonderful. Reminds me of springtime."

_How in the world does bread remind someone of springtime?_ Ginny wondered as she stepped a little to the side away from Luna, feeling crowded. "Well, gluten is what makes bread springy." She glanced up, catching sight of Ostentatia Verbena across the room. She was standing with her arms crossed, watching Dean working his dough. "We don't want any stodgy loaves here, do we?"

"Oh, no. I tried to make bread once and Daddy said that it was better suited to being used as bait for rock-eating worms!" Luna threw back her head, letting out a girlish laugh and Ginny let out an agreeable chuckle.

"Well, hopefully the only thing hard on this bread is the crust!" She continued working her dough, feeling it grow silkier against her palms as Luna wandered off to badger Martha. She pulled a small piece off and pulled it into a small square, stretching it thin.

"What's that for?" Harry asked, seeming to appear next to her out of thin air.

Startled, Ginny dropped the bit of dough onto the floor and put her hand over her chest. "Oh my stars! You nearly frightened me to death!"

"Sorry." Harry shrugged, giving her that sheepish grin that was growing on her faster than it had any right to.

"It's all right. I was just lost in bread world!" Ginny bent and picked up the piece of dough, tossing it into the bin. "It's called a windowpane test." She took another small piece and pulled it into a square, holding it up for Harry. "It's how you see if you've got your dough right. It should stretch enough for you to see through without breaking. See?" She let out a breath, pleased when the dough stretched with no trouble, letting light shine through.

Still holding the square of dough, Ginny looked at him, finding that she liked his dark brows drawn down in concentration as much as his sheepish grins. Their eyes met and a warmth bloomed across her cheeks, her own sheepish smile starting to come out.

"Ah, windowpane test. Good." Startled for the second time in five minutes, Ginny managed to not drop the dough this time as Ostentatia leaned in from the other side of the worktop, peering critically at her dough. "Careful not to overwork it," she said as she swept away to another contestant.

Sighing, Ginny re-integrated her test into the dough, shaping it into a smooth ball, the memory of her mortification at being found with Harry and Sirius in the host green room that morning coming back in full force.

Next to her, Harry cleared his throat. "I'll let you get on with your work then." He gave her a tentative pat on her shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Ginny put her dough in a clean bowl and covered it, setting it aside to rise. Turning her attention to cutting up the fresh dirigible plums for the jam she was planning to put inside her Chelsea buns, she tried to block out the sounds of Dean, Harry and Ostentatia laughing at his workstation.

Once her plums were simmering, she took a moment to do a bit of clearing up at her workstation, carrying empty bowls and utensils to the dish station at the rear of the tent. As she turned around to go back, she nearly crashed into Dean, managing to swerve to the side at the last second.

"Sorry!" she said, reaching out a steadying hand on his arm as he struggled not to drop several bowls. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the crew shift a mirror to face them and a fuzzy microphone zoomed over, hovering expectantly over their heads. _They don't miss a trick!_

"Oh, that's just payback, isn't it? I don't know how many times I had to get out of your way when you were after the Snitch!" Dean mimed looking up, eyes wide in horror as he ducked down out of the way of an imaginary Ginny flying past him.

Red-faced, Ginny could only giggle at his theatrics. "Do you remember when you broke your collarbone blocking Malfoy for me?"

"How could I forget?" He playfully pushed her shoulder. "Anything for my favorite ginger."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Who's your second favorite ginger?"

"George," Dean whispered, leaning closer. "Don't tell Seamus!" He burst out with another one of his long rolling laughs and Ginny saw Harry look towards them out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't quite tell, but she thought she saw a frown on his face.

Running out of laughter, Dean wiped his hands on his apron and crossed his arms. "How's it going? Are you in yet?"

Ginny's scalp prickled and she fought the impulse to look for Harry. "In what?" she asked, wondering if her chat with Harry earlier was already widely known.

"In the oven?" he clarified, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh! No, not yet. I still have a bit of proving to go. I've got my plums on though." Worried about her simmering plums, she headed back to her workstation with Dean, the microphone following along. "What about you?"

"Just went in," he said, pride evident in his voice.

"Already?" she gasped. "How long of a bake is it? Panettone, right?"

"Yeah. About an hour, usually. At home, anyway." Dean glanced at the oven at his workstation. "Although this is a different oven …" He turned back to Ginny and hugged her. "Good luck with your plums. I've got to keep an eye on things here."

"Thanks," she said as he folded his lanky body down onto the floor of the tent, peering anxiously into the foreign oven.

* * *

"Ella, can you please bring up your bake?" Lee Jordan asked. Next to him, Luna let out a sigh of appreciation at the sight of the lemon iced and chocolate with orange buns. Despite his dangerously full stomach, Harry's mouth watered in anticipation of the tartness of the lemon-filled buns.

After setting the laden platter on the table, Ella stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her. Harry smiled at her but she didn't respond, eyes flitting between Ostentatia and him, who was currently examining the two dozen buns in front of them.

"Looks like a nice, even bake," she said, the floating microphones capturing every word. She took one of each and set them on a clean plate, using her wand to slice the both of them neatly in two. She reached out with a red-nailed finger and pushed on the roll. The bread sank in and sprang back. "See that? That's perfectly proved," she said and Harry wracked his memory as to what "proved" meant.

"Mm," he agreed. "Shall we see how it tastes?" He picked up half of the lemon iced bun and bit into it, closing his eyes as the tartness of the lemon exploded on his tongue, followed a moment later by the sweetness of the icing. "This is lovely," he said after he'd swallowed. He was sorely tempted to take another bite, but didn't, knowing that there were eight more contestants to judge. _Pace yourself, Potter._

"Absolutely scrumptious," Ostentatia said. She set that down and treated the chocolate bun to the same finger poke treatment. Harry didn't seem to think that one sprang back in quite the same manner, but it still tasted delicious. "Very nice, my dear." Dismissed, Ella went back to her workstation, shoulders hunched in delight. Luna used her wand to send the platter with the remaining buns to a production assistant behind them where they were secreted away to be enjoyed by the crew.

Once Ella had reached her workstation, Luna called Ginny Weasley up next. Obviously surprised to be called up so soon, Ginny's face colored pink and she stood up, smoothing her tartan skirt, reminding Harry of how she'd done that exact same movement when she'd wandered into the host green room earlier that day. Her platter floating in front of her, Harry had to admire her calm expression as she approached the judging table.

"Oh, those look so pretty!" Luna said, clapping her hands together in delight.

"I hope they taste as good as they look," Ostentatia murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

"These do look wonderful. What flavors have you got for us today?" Harry asked, giving her a moment to gather herself.

"I've made for you two different sorts of Chelsea buns. I've got spiced orange and dirigible plum with lemon," Ginny said, tucking her long red hair behind her ears.

"Dirigible plum? Not the easiest to work with. I find it tends to bitterness," Ostentatia said, her hand hovering over the platter of buns.

"That's only if you're not good enough at getting all the peel off," Ginny said, surprising Harry with her comeback.

He glanced at Ostentatia, getting a glimpse of her frosty smile. "Well, let's hope you're good enough," she said, setting two buns on the plate and slicing them in half. Harry expected the finger poke, but it looked quite a bit more vigorous than the poke that had been applied to Ella's buns.

"A bit stodgy," Ostentatia said. "Underproved. You see how it doesn't spring back? It's lacking the desired lightness."

Harry saw Ginny's lips tighten, a crack in her calm exterior that was quickly smoothed over. Impressed by her self-possession, he smiled at her, getting one in return. "It really comes down to taste, though, doesn't it?" he said, picking up the half of the dirigible plum one that his co-judge hadn't nearly put her finger through. His first bite practically melted in his mouth, the lemon in the bun complimenting the delicate sweetness of the dirigible plum perfectly. "This is …" he said, taking a second and then third bite, finishing his half of the bun. "I think that's the best Chelsea bun I've ever had."

"Adequate," Otentatia pronounced, setting down her half with a single bite taken out of it. They sampled the orange spice one next. Harry didn't think it was quite as good as the lemon and plum, but it was still quite delicious. "I think you need to take your time in the tent next time, my dear," Ostentatia said, clearly dismissing her.

Ginny nodded, acknowledging the criticism but giving nothing away before returning to her workstation. As the platter of her Chelsea buns floated past him towards the waiting PA, Harry knew that he would definitely be taking some of Ginny's buns home with him.

* * *

"Tough day, wasn't it?" Dean said. They were the only ones left in the contestant green room, getting their things.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr Magical Baker! You didn't get called _stodgy_, did you?" Ginny said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder.

Dean grinned in delight when she named him as that day's winner. "I know! I thought that Ella Stuckey was going to get it today!"

"Me, too! And her! Did you see her face when Lee announced you? That would have been a Killing Curse for sure!"

Dean's eyes went wide and he shook his head. "No! She hugged me extra hard at the end!"

"I'm just saying, you might need to think about hiring protection."

"Yeah? You think Harry Potter might be up for the job?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny's face heated up and she flashed back to the smile he gave her right before the terrible judging session and the private conversation they'd had earlier. "Listen, you keep talking like that and I'll think you're the one with the crush on him," she said, hoping to get in a parting shot before she left.

"So you admit it!"

"I've admitted nothing!" Flustered, Ginny fumbled with the doorknob, finally getting the door open on her third attempt. Face flaming, she fled the room, Dean's hearty laughter following her.

* * *

"So, was granny a bit less grabby today?" Sirius asked. They were at the table in the cellar kitchen of Number Twelve, enjoying a beer after the long day.

"I don't think she laid a hand on me all day," Harry said after a long swallow of Guinness. "What did you think about the judging today? You watched it and tried the bakes, right?"

Sirius pursed his lips for a moment as he thought. "Yes. I thought the elimination of that Alfie fellow was fair. He just really seemed out of his element all day. That olive bread was hard as a rock."

"What did you think of the last bake?"

"A lot of them were nice. Alfie, well, you know."

"Did you try the dirigible plum Chelsea buns?" Harry asked. His scalp prickled when Sirius paused in raising his beer.

"Mm, yes. They were lovely. Those were Arthur's girl's, right?" A smile spread across his face. "She's quite charming, isn't she?"

Harry looked down at his bottle, spinning it in his hands. "Erm, well, I just felt that maybe the judging of her buns was a bit harsh."

"I see." Sirius finished his beer and Vanished the bottle. He stood up and stretched, letting out a loud groan. "Well, some of us aren't as young and need to get to bed." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Sitting around and eating all day is hard work!"

"Night, Sirius." Harry heard his godfather's footsteps pause near the stairs and he turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

"You going to be around Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

"Might be, yeah. What's up?"

"There's a few things I'm low on. I'll leave you a list."

"Yeah, all right." Sirius headed up the stairs and Harry turned back around to finish his beer. When he was sure he was alone, he reached into the pocket of the jacket he had draped over the back of his chair, bringing out a small box. In the box was one perfect dirigible plum Chelsea bun.

* * *

**_Harry Potter Caught Canoodling With Contestant!_**

_Britain's Most Magical Baker_ judge and Auror Golden Boy Harry Potter has been caught looking very cozy with one of the contestants of the show. In a blatant rejection of impartiality, our source says that he and one Ginny Weasley were spotted having an intimate chat in the judge's green room.

"Their heads were very close together and I was shocked to see it, especially since it was only the second week of competition!" our source said. "I've heard some things about that Ginny Weasley and what she got up to during her time at Hogwarts. In fact, one of her ex-boyfriends is in the competition and you can bet he's not getting any special treatment from Harry Potter!"

Our source indicated that the ex-boyfriend is none other than Dean Thomas, who took home the first Magical Baker award of the competition during cake week. Another source who was at Hogwarts with Ginny Weasley had this to say: "Oh, yeah, she left a trail of broken hearts behind her when she left school."

We can only hope that one such as her won't be able to get her hooks into one of the judges for an unfair advantage. Her bakes must stand on their own! Harry Potter, if you are reading this, we implore you to stand firm and remember your duty!


	4. Chapter 4

"Canoodling? I wasn't … what does that even mean?" Harry threw down the newspaper in disgust, crossing his arms as Sirius picked it up and read the offending piece.

After reading it, he folded the paper and set it on the table. "Come on. You're no stranger to the gossip section," he said, raising his eyebrows. "That's better than the Auror brutality beat, isn't it?"

Harry scowled at his godfather. "Thanks for pointing that out. You were there. There wasn't any of this … _canoodling_ or whatever the bloody hell they're saying we were doing! We were just chatting to each other!" Harry looked at his godfather with narrowed eyes. "In fact, you did your fair share of the talking. How come you're not being accused of anything?"

"Well, I'm not Harry Potter, am I?" Sirius folded the newspaper and set it onto the table. "Don't get your knickers in a twist over it, all right? This just shows that you're doing your job and taking the heat off of the department."

Only slightly mollified, Harry grunted as Sirius left the lounge and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Still brooding on the gossip piece, Harry picked up the newspaper and read it again, noting the quote about broken hearts and that Dean Thomas was her ex-boyfriend. _Shame. I quite liked Dean._

* * *

Ron stormed into the kitchen at the Burrow, newspaper in hand. "Oi, what's this about, then?" Ginny looked at him in confusion as he waved it at her.

"Ron, get that out of my face. Can't you see I'm busy?" She continued to pipe out macarons, focusing on getting all of them the same size on the baking paper.

Huffing, Ron unfolded the paper with a flourish, eyes scanning the text until he found what he was looking for. "Harry Potter Caught Canoodling With Contestant," he boomed, making her squeeze her piping bag full of macaron batter too hard, sending pink goop all over the sheet.

"What? Let me see that!" Macarons forgotten, Ginny's eyes quickly found the bold lettering and she read the whole piece, Ron hovering over her shoulder. "Canoodling? What in the bloody hell? Who would even— We weren't even alone! Sirius was there and then Ostentatia came in!"

She threw down the paper and elbowed Ron in the ribs. "Stop looming over me! Look at this mess! I've got to start over and it's biscuits next time!"

Ron stepped around to the other side of the kitchen island worktop, blue eyes mutinous. "What's this about you hanging around Potter, eh? Are you trying to get into his good graces?"

Ginny Vanished the ruined sheet of macarons and gave her brother a dark look. "Is that what you really think of me?" she asked, gratified to see Ron shift on his feet.

"Well, erm, no. Not you so much, but … it's Potter, isn't it? He's always out doing things with other girls and … women," Ron said as she pulled out another sheet of parchment paper.

"So what's that got to do with anything?" Ginny's face grew hot at the thought of Harry going out with older, richer, more experienced women.

"He didn't go to Hogwarts, did he?"

"Again, what's that got to do with anything?"

Ron rolled his eyes as if she were just not understanding the obvious. "We don't know what sort of bloke he is," he hissed.

Ginny set aside her piping bag and looked at her brother. "You know what he did for all of us. I'm sure he would have much rather have gone to Hogwarts like we did, but he didn't have that luxury, did he?"

Ron had the decency to look chastened as he dropped his eyes and mumbled something indistinct. "Listen, he's just … I don't want you to get hurt or anything, all right?" he finally said.

"Ron, it's just baking! What's going to happen?" Ginny grabbed her bag full of batter and began piping out her macarons again as Ron sloped off out of the kitchen. _Canoodling. We were just chatting and we weren't even alone. _Shaking her head, she squeezed out the next row of macarons. _Hmm, I wonder just who he's dated in the past. I'll have to see if I can find some of Mum's old Witch Weeklys …_

* * *

Ginny entered the enormous marquee, walking behind Dean. She tried not to look at the empty stations that used to be occupied, but her eyes were drawn to them nonetheless. She had a brief thought about charming old Alfie Melton, let down last week by his olive and anchovy buns that Ostentatia had coldly declared, "Not worth the calories."

As she put on her apron, she caught the eye of Ella Stuckey and smiled. Ella didn't return it, turning away from her with a flip of her long blonde ponytail. Ginny's lips thinned and she tied her apron more forcefully than she intended. _It seems like I'm not the only one who saw that charming little item in the Prophet._

Crossing her arms, she turned around, determined to put the pettiness of the other contestant out of her mind. At the station behind her, Dean raised an eyebrow. "All right?" he asked as the rest of the broadcast crew got ready around them.

Ginny sighed and stepped toward his workstation. "I don't know if you take the Prophet," she said, dismayed by the wide smile that spread across his face.

"You mean about the _canoodling_?"

"Oh, no! Not you too!" she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Ginny, it's fine!" Dean took her wrists and gently moved her hands away from her face. "You don't have anything to worry about. It's just stupid gossip and you told me all about it right after it happened anyway. Everyone's just jealous."

Stepping back, Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you the _anonymous source_?"

Dean put his hand on his chest, affecting a shocked expression. "I would _never." _He glanced up towards the front of the marquee and Ginny followed his eyes. Harry stood up front with Ostentatia, Luna and Lee Jordan. His shirt had the top two buttons undone, giving her a peek of dark hair at the base of his neck. Clearing his throat, Dean leaned in closer to her. "I might try a bit of that 'getting lost' myself," he whispered, making her giggle.

"Thanks, Dean." Ginny turned back to her own station, marshaling her thoughts to the three flavors of macarons she was planning for the day's first bake.

* * *

Harry wandered around the workstations, still not feeling like he belonged in this ridiculous tent with the delicious smells of baking all around him. He still smarted a bit from the gossip item in the Prophet and the ensuing conversation with the Head Auror.

"Potter!" Auror Jones had boomed from the kitchen fireplace. Full of trepidation, Harry had gone down to answer the call, surprised when the Head Auror was grinning from ear to ear.

"Potter," he said again, giving Harry a wide smile, "just read the Prophet! You're doing a great job out there! Great job! Is there any chance you can be seen with this … Ginny Weasley, was it? Is that Arthur's little girl? My God, it's been ages!"

"Auror Jones, sir," Harry began, only to be interrupted.

"I want to see a picture of you two in the Prophet next! Just the thing to make everyone forget about this Nott business!" A second later, Head Auror Jones disappeared in a flash of green light and Harry was left standing in his kitchen, alternately bemused and enraged.

And now he was free to wander around and poke his nose into any mixing bowl he wished. Giving an internal sigh, he pasted a smile on his face and nodded to Ella Stuckey. "And what are you cooking up here?" he asked, trying not to sound like the smarmy idiot he felt like.

Ella's blue eyes opened wide at him and she gave him a sparkling smile. "Oh, I'm getting my ganache together for one of my macarons!"

Harry peered into the bowl, seeing a mass of chocolate. "Erm, what exactly is a ganache?"

"It's lovely! Chocolate melted down with cream," she said, stirring the mass briskly. "I've got a special ingredient in this one though."

"Oh? What's that?"

"A bit of this!" She picked up the bottle of coffee liqueur and winked. "I figure with the competition here giving the judges a bit of booze will only help!"

Harry laughed and winked back at her. "Well, a bit of booze can go a long way!" he said, patting her shoulder. He didn't miss the light blush that spread across her cheeks.

* * *

Ginny looked up, distracted by the sound of Harry's laughter. She saw him chatting to Ella Stuckey and narrowed her eyes before forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath. _Mind your own business, Weasley,_ she counseled, carefully stirring the orange zest into the shell mixture for her mimosa-inspired macarons.

_Macarons made while angry never turn out well._ She had been practicing these very macarons when Ron had shown her that horrible gossip piece. Flustered, she'd gotten impatient and put them in the oven sooner than she should have and they came out a cracked mess.

"Not this time," she murmured, carefully spooning the mixture into a piping bag.

"That's a pretty color," Harry said, appearing as if by magic on the other side of her worktop.

"You've snuck up on me again!" she exclaimed, barely managing to avoid shooting the pink mixture all over his front.

He favored her with another one of those gorgeous sheepish smiles and shrugged. "Habit, I guess." He scowled at her and wagged a finger. "Constant vigilance!" he said, making her giggle.

"Well stop it. I don't know if my heart can take much more!" She gave her piping bag an experimental squeeze and raised an eyebrow at him. "Now stop distracting me. I need to concentrate."

"Aren't you just squeezing out batter?"

Ginny leaned over her prepared sheet, focusing on squeezing out just the right amount to fill in the circle. "I am, but I need to make sure that I get the same amount in each one. Uniformity is the name of the game with macarons."

"I see," he said, falling silent until she was finished. Acutely aware of Harry's eyes on her, she managed to not make a fool of herself and successfully piped all of her orange-flavored shells.

"And now I give these a few whacks," she said, slamming the sheet of piped circles firmly onto the worktop three times as per her ritual. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry give a little jump and allowed herself a small smile. "And now I'll set these aside to dry."

"You don't bake them?" Harry asked, frowning at the other sheets with the other flavors of shells she'd already piped.

"No, you have to let them dry out first or else you end up with shells full of cracks."

"And that's bad?"

Ginny glanced over to where Ostentatia stood at the front of the tent, gray eyes seeming to see all of them at once and then looked back at Harry. "Very."

He nodded to the trays and gave her that grin again. She noticed that one of his teeth was just a bit crooked and she felt as if she'd made a momentous discovery. "Well, let's hope they all dry out, then. What's next?"

"Well now I need to make the filling." Glad she'd chosen to wear trousers today, Ginny bent over and took the bottle of champagne out of the cold box under the worktop.

"A little bit early to celebrate, don't you think?" Harry said, picking up the bottle to look at the label.

"You mean you don't have a regular afternoon glass of champagne? Then I must not be reading the right magazines!" Ginny said, covering her mouth in horror when she realized what she'd said.

Harry's lips twisted into a grimace. "Yes, well. I think we both know you can't believe everything you read, yeah?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny mumbled, trying to cover her discomfort by measuring out some sugar.

"Nah, don't be, all right? It's just gossip. I'm, erm, rather used to it, I'm afraid," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "So, this has got champagne in. Any other boozy flavors? Ella's apparently getting us drunk."

Glad to have the awkward moment over, Ginny gave him a fake pout. "No, this is the only alcohol I've got for you today. My other flavors are lavender and chocolate spiced up with some chili."

Just then, Ostentatia joined them, fixing her gimlet eye on her drying shells. "Lavender? What are you pairing it with?" she asked, her voice clipped.

"I've got coconut going with it," Ginny said, willing herself not to be nervous. _It's so relaxing just chatting with Harry, but she's like McGonagall on her worst day!_

"Mm." Ostentatia picked up the bottle of champagne and briefly examined the label before giving a sniff and putting it back down. "Make sure you don't go too heavy on the lavender. You don't want to make your macaron taste like granny's soap, now do you?"

"No, ma'am," Ginny mumbled, completely second-guessing her flavor decision.

"Harry, let's go see what Lucas has going. I think I smelled Earl Grey earlier and I want to see what he's putting it with," Ostentatia said, sweeping off to Lucas's station before Harry could even answer.

"Well, I'll let you get on with it, all right?" he said, moving away from Ginny's workstation.

"Oh, before you go, can you open the champagne? I'm terrible at it and it just goes everywhere."

"I think I can manage that." Harry took a moment and rolled up his shirt sleeves before picking up the bottle. Ginny experienced another flash of heat as she watched him unwind the metal cage around the cork. He stood with his feet firmly planted, the bottle cradled in one hand and his wand in the other. Breathless, Ginny watched as he focused before moving his wand in a swift upward motion, ejecting the cork with a loud _pop_. It sailed across the marquee and hit the other wall with a soft thud.

Grinning triumphantly, Harry took a swig of the champagne and then bowed, spreading his arms wide while Ginny and several other contestants clapped in appreciation. "Thank you," she said when he handed her the bottle, utterly convinced that he could hear her crazily beating heart. "Very well done."

"Anytime. Now I must go see about Lucas's _Earl Grey_." Before she could blink, he was gone.

"Ginny," Dean hissed behind her and she turned. He favored her with a wide-eyed expression, mouthing the word _canoodling_ before breaking up into rolling laughter.

Face burning, Ginny spun around, setting down the bottle of champagne with a thump.

* * *

"When was the last time you opened a champagne bottle?" Sirius asked as they perused the luncheon table.

"Erm, New Year's, I suppose," Harry asked, helping himself to freshly fried chips. "Why?"

Sirius shrugged, picking out a few choice cold cuts and cheese. "You put on quite a show in there."

"What do you mean?"

"There are simpler ways to open a bottle of champagne," he said, nudging Harry's shoulder as he took his laden plate to the table.

Harry followed him, sitting down across from his godfather. "You saying I was showing off?" he asked as he doused his chips in vinegar.

"Were you?"

Harry put the lid back on the malt vinegar bottle and set it down before answering. "Maybe a little."

Sirius grunted and turned his attention to lunch and Harry allowed his mind to wander, remembering how Ginny's cheeks had flushed a pretty pink when he'd surprised her. "She has brothers."

"Sorry?" Harry said, brought back to reality.

"Ginny. She has brothers. Six of them."

"So? What's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius gave him a half shrug. "They're probably watching along with everyone else."

"And?"

"And you might want to watch your showboating, all right?"

Harry grunted and pushed away his plate of chips, appetite gone. _So she's got brothers. So what. And I wasn't showboating._

* * *

"All right, then. My least favorite part. Who is going home today?" Harry looked at the array of treats arranged on the table in front of them. Ostentatia sat in the rustic-looking chair next to him, the corner of the equally rustic table between them. Sirius was seated in a much more comfortable chair a ways away, holding a plate piled high with macarons.

"Mm, yes," she murmured, surveying the biscuits and scones on the table. Lips pursed, she pulled one plate towards her, the one with Lucas's Earl Gray-infused macarons. Harry had found the taste of the Earl Gray so overwhelming that he'd nearly gagged, only Lucas's hopeful eyes on him keeping him from spitting the bite out.

"These were …" she began and Harry braced himself, marshaling his arguments. _They look nice, but the taste ... You told me yourself that it's not enough for them to look good … Lucas has seemed a bit out of his depth …_ "These were not quite up to standard," she said and Harry let out a breath. Ostentatia slid Lucas's plate to the side and Harry felt that he knew who'd be going home.

"I agree. It was a bit like biting into a block of perfume, yeah? And his scones were a bit on the hard side." Harry drew the plate with Ella's macarons towards him. "I think Ella did quite well. These were nice." He resolutely ignored Sirius's snicker.

"Yes, perfectly serviceable," she said, that dismissive sound that Harry knew by now meant that the baker was square in the middle of the group. Martha received a similar assessment for her strawberry cheesecake-inspired macarons. She didn't even give poor Elliot's plate of cracked lemon, red velvet and mint macarons a glance, pulling Dean Thomas's trio towards her instead.

"These, however, are unique," she said, picking up one that Harry had thought was rather esoteric.

"What flavor is this?" he'd asked before biting into it.

"That's based on a Snickers," Dean had answered promptly. Harry raised an eyebrow as he chewed, the flavors seeming to explode in his mouth. "It's an American Muggle chocolate bar. Chocolate, caramel and peanuts," he explained. The candy bar-flavored macarons were accompanied by one that claimed to be something called snickerdoodle and strawberry lemonade.

Ostentatia had waxed poetic on the shininess of the shells, the perfect feet and the richness of the filling, leaving Harry feeling like he was missing something. And when they'd moved on to Ginny Weasley's …

"I felt these were a bit pedestrian," Ostentatia said, pulling Ginny's plate towards them.

"Pedestrian? How so?" Harry asked, picking up one of the shiny pink mimosa-flavored biscuits. Holding it to his nose, he took a deep breath, inhaling the delicate orange scent as he recalled watching Ginny pipe out the perfect circles.

"Mimosa and chocolate with chili? Not very exciting."

"What about the lavender with the coconut? That's unique." Harry hadn't been quite sure what to expect when he tasted one and he'd been pleasantly surprised, especially with Ostentatia's earlier comment about soap. "And her scones were delicious."

Despite Harry's best efforts, Ostentatia remained noncommittal. "Mm," was all she said. "Are you ready?"

"Erm, yeah, all right," Harry said, having been reminded by her that his job on this was to be good-looking, non-threatening and charming. Sirius stood as they did, his plate now empty and came to stand next to Harry as Ostentatia bustled through to the green room.

"She's got her favorite, doesn't she?" Sirius said as they followed in her wake.

"What? D'you mean Dean?"

"Yes. Seems our young Mr Thomas has quite got old Ozzie under his spell."

Harry paused just outside the entrance to the green room and turned to his godfather. "What about Ginny Weasley? Do you think she's being a bit … unfair?"

Sirius's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he grinned. "Are you worried she might be gone before you've had another chance to canoodle?"

Face flooded with red, Harry pushed his godfather's shoulder. "Oh, bugger off with that, old man," he said. "I just think she's harder on her than she is on the other contestants, that's all."

Sirius patted him on his shoulder, making Harry feel like he was a kid again. "Well, are you a judge or not?"

* * *

Ginny perched on the stool, trying to put all of the crew out of her mind and not look as scared as she felt. Dean's hand crept into hers and she clung to it, not even a little bit sorry that hers was damp with anxiety. Lucas sat on her other side and she reached out for his hand as well, glad to feel that his was a bit sweaty as well.

Nervous chatter ceased when Luna and Lee walked in, followed by Ostentatia and Harry. Ginny stared, trying to deduce how things would go by studying their faces. As usual, Luna looked like she was surprised to find herself in the tent and Ginny knew she wouldn't get any clues there. Lee was the master of the blank expression, honed by many years of being Fred and George's best friend.

Almost against her will, she glanced at Harry, a jolt running through her when their eyes met. She reflexively squeezed Dean's hand and he squeezed back. She saw Harry's eyes flick down to their joined hands and he looked away, adopting an impassive expression.

At an unseen signal from the director, Lee nodded and smiled, obviously trying to set the bakers at ease. It was completely useless and only made Ginny's stomach churn harder. "Bakers," he said, his mellow voice doing what his smile couldn't, "you've served us some wonderful treats today."

Lucas squeezed her hand so hard she almost yelped and she knew he was thinking about his Earl Gray macarons. Ginny had tried to be nice when she sampled them, but he knew that he'd overdone it and he was on the chopping block.

"Today I get to announce the baker that dazzled us today. They gave us a taste of America in three different ways." Dean was squeezing Ginny's hand so hard her knuckles were grinding together and she grit her teeth. "Today's Magical Baker is Dean Thomas!"

The tent exploded into applause and Ginny took the opportunity to try and clap some life back into her hand. The elation didn't last long, however and they were soon all clutching hands again as they waited to learn who would be sent home and exiled from the tent.

Luna surveyed them, her big blue eyes seeming to radiate sympathy. She opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times and Ginny heard one of the crew members sigh. "Can't we do it over again and I announce who gets to stay?" she finally said. Standing to her right, Ostentatia rolled her eyes.

"You announced the winner last week. You know we switch off," Lee said. Ginny was impressed at the lack of impatience in his voice.

"But I hate delivering bad news."

The director stepped forward and took Luna's hand. "I know it's hard, love, but you'll get to announce the Magical Baker next week," he said, giving her a cajoling smile.

Luna narrowed her eyes. "Can I announce the winner winner at the end?" she asked.

Beside her, Lee started to say something, but the director held up his hand. "Of course you can. Are you ready to get on with things?" Luna nodded and the director patted her hand before letting go and stepping back. After a moment, he gave the signal and the butterflies in Ginny's stomach started fluttering at double time.

Composed once more, Luna addressed the waiting bakers. "And I have to say which one of you is going home. I don't think it's fair that I have to say it, but Lee said that since I got to announce the Magical Baker last time, that now I have to tell you all that Lucas will be leaving the tent."

Everyone in the tent seemed to let out a collective sigh and Ginny nearly swayed off the stool with relief. All of the contestants converged on Lucas and Dean. Shaking hands, hugging, commiserating and congratulating. Swept up in the emotion of the moment and the elation of having not been eliminated, Ginny hugged all of those around her, turning around to come face-to-face with Harry.

"Oh!" she gasped, her eyes practically zeroing in on the dark hairs that peeped out from under his collar. Her face flooded with heat as she raised her eyes to meet his.

"You survive to battle on another day!" he said, grinning down at her.

"Yes! It's puddings next week, isn't it?" Ginny pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the chaos around them quite forgotten.

Harry shrugged. "No clue, really. I just show up, yeah?" He stuck out his hand and she took it once, giddy at actually touching him. "Well done."

"Thank you," she said, letting go of his hand as he moved on to the next contestant. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up, seeing Ostentatia's cold gray eyes staring at her.

* * *

Ginny was in the back storage room sorting through the stock of shrivelfigs when she heard the bell over the door of the shop give its distinctive chime. "I'll be right out," she called as she set the basket aside for later. On the way out to the front room of the shop, she picked up a cloth to wipe her hands, nearly dropping it when she saw a tall, cloaked figure perusing the tanks of preserved eyeballs inside the largest display case.

She mentally started checking stock of the usual sorts of things that Aurors came into the shop for, hoping that this one wouldn't need more than one jar of griffon grease.

"Sorry, I was in the stock room. What can I—" The Auror turned around and she gasped. "Oh, it's you!" she said, immediately turning red at the realization that Harry Potter was standing right in front of her.

"Ginny? You work—" Harry started before slapping his forehead. "Of course. It was on your bio! I can't believe I forgot."

She stood on the other side of the display case from him, experiencing a strange sort of breathlessness that was usually not present when they were in the tent. In his Auror clothes, she found he was a much more imposing figure and nothing like the charming young man that asked her questions about bread, cake and biscuits. _He seems taller somehow._

"I feel like I should be elbow-deep in dough right now," she said, giving a little laugh to try and settle her nerves at the surrealness of talking to Harry in the real world instead of in a tent full of people and the smell of cooking sugar.

Harry smiled, revealing that crooked tooth once more. "I feel like we should be surrounded by microphones."

"Well, there's none of those in here, thank goodness!" she said, gratified when he laughed along with her. "Well, Harry, what brings you in today? Do you need something for the department?"

"Oh, no! It's for my godfather. Sirius." He patted his trouser pockets, a look of panic coming over his face when he didn't immediately find what he was looking for. "Ah! There it is," he said, finally pulling out a slip of parchment out of the inner pocket of his cloak. "I, uh, have a list."

"I see. May I have it?" Harry handed her the list and she scanned the neat writing, noticing the precise quantities. "All right. We should have all of these in stock. Give me a few minutes and I'll get these together for you." He nodded and she turned around, heading back to the rear storeroom, focusing on walking as normally as possible.

Safely out of sight, she leaned against the wall and put her hand over her racing heart. _What is your problem? You see him all the time! Well, maybe not all the time, but more than once!_ Shaking her head at her ridiculousness, she took a deep, calming breath and fixed her mind of filling her current customer's order.

_Just an ordinary customer, no one famous._ She reached up to the ginseng, wrinkling her nose at the sharp smell as she measured out the desired quantity and checked it off the list. _And certainly not an unusual customer. Aurors come in here all the time._ Using her wand, she Summoned a basket of ground bicorn horn before plucking out two sealed packets.

Pushing Harry out of her mind, she focused on filling the order until she got to the last item. _Pickled_ _chanterelle mushrooms. All right. Sounds like champagne. _A flash of heat filled her as she remembered Harry opening the champagne bottle for her so she could make the filling for her mimosa macarons. _The way he rolled up those sleeves and just … oh God. Dean was right. I have got it bad!_

Order complete, she stood quietly and tried to will the blood from her hot cheeks and settle her heart. Once she was reasonably confident that she wouldn't trip over her own two feet, she carried the basket full of herbs and other things out to where Harry waited. His back was to her and she paused for a moment, admiring the breadth of his shoulders underneath the heavy black cloak.

He must have heard her step because he turned around, green eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Ginny's traitorous heart stuttered before it started beating again at double time.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd done a runner out of the back," he said, treating her to a smile. "Listen, Sirius's birthday is coming up and I wanted to get him something special. What d'you think about these?" He motioned to the fine potions implements in the display case.

She set the basket with his godfather's order in it on the counter and approached the case. On display were scales, pans, knives, stirring rods and other things, all made of the finest metals. "Um, what were you thinking of?" she asked, cursing the squeakiness of her voice. All alone with him in the quiet coolness of the shop, she was much more aware of his effect on her than she'd ever been in the tent and she pressed her hand on her stomach, trying to still the trembling.

"I was looking at that trimming knife," he said, pointing at a small silver knife. It had a delicately filigreed handle and a wickedly sharp blade. Ginny already knew the balance was exquisite as she'd been the one that had laid it on the black velvet in the display case.

"That's very nice. Goblin made by Untarr Untervagen. He only releases a few pieces a year for the wizard market. Would you like to see it?" Harry nodded and Ginny unlocked the cabinet, carefully removing the knife before setting it on a velvet pad on top of the display case. _Wouldn't do to cut myself in front of him, now would it?_

Harry picked it up, handling it with confidence as he examined every aspect of it. "Yeah, he'll like that. Can you, erm, wrap it? I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

"Of course. All part of the service," she said lightly, giddiness surging through her at the thought of taking her time wrapping the package perfectly to keep Harry in the shop with her. _It is a gift, after all._

As she prepared the shop's wrapping paper, she kept an eye on Harry as he wandered around, looking at the displays of the soaps, lotions and other herbal stuffs. _Oh, please don't ask how girls like the apple blossom soap, _she thought, nearly jumping out of her skin when he spoke.

"How long have you worked here?" he asked, turning away from a display of soothing tinctures.

"Oh, since I left Hogwarts," Ginny said, measuring out the precise amount of wrapping paper for the boxed knife.

"Yeah?" Harry said, approaching the wrapping table, his boots sounding loud in the quiet shop. "Did you always know what you wanted to do?"

"God no," Ginny snorted. "When I was little, I wanted to work with animals and then I wanted to play Quidditch." She looked up, pleased to see his interested expression.

"What made you change your mind?" Harry leaned a hip against the table, looking like he'd be quite happy to talk to her for a while longer yet. The idea nearly made her lightheaded.

"I had a very good Potions teacher starting in my fifth year. He really helped me see that I wasn't rubbish after all," she said as she secured the wrapping paper onto the box with a minor sticking charm.

"Was that Snape?"

"No, Slughorn. Snape was … difficult to work with at times," she said diplomatically.

Now it was Harry's turn to snort. "You're telling me. Try having him teach you—" he said before cutting himself off. Shaking his head, he gave her a smile. "He was indeed difficult to work with, yes."

Burning with curiosity to know what Snape would have been teaching Harry as he prepared to defeat Lord Voldemort, Ginny held her tongue and cut a length of forest green ribbon. The last thing she wanted to do was say the wrong thing and ruin his mood or make him leave.

"I got one, you know," he said, breaking the silence between them.

"One of what?" Ginny asked as she carefully tied the bow. She wanted Sirius to admire the package before he opened it.

"A Hogwarts letter."

A jolt of electricity went through her, nearly making her drop the wrapped package as she handed it to Harry. _Why is that surprising? All magical children get one._ "Did you?" she said. "What happened?"

Harry took the perfectly-wrapped gift, looking down at it for a moment before he shook his head. "Sirius wouldn't let me go. He said it wasn't safe. Dumbledore tried to convince him, but he wasn't having it."

As he talked, Ginny realized how lonely he must have been growing up and her eyes began to sting, making her blink several times. "Well, you missed Professor Binns and History of Magic, so there's your silver lining," she said, glad when he smiled back at her.

He opened his mouth, about to say something else when the bell over the door chimed and an older man walked in. "Welcome in, sir. I'll be with you in a moment," Ginny said, gathering up Sirius's order and totaling it up. "All right. That's five Galleons, seven Sickles with the knife."

"Free gift wrap?" Harry said, handing her the coins.

Ginny leaned forward over the display case that separated them. "Only for certain customers," she said in a low voice.

A slow smile spread across his face and he raised an eyebrow, giving her that tremble in her stomach again. "I'll have to keep that in mind." He picked up his packages and nodded. "See you next time," he said as he walked out of the door of the shop, the chime not sounding quite as happy this time.

* * *

**_BMMB Judge Spotted With Contestant!_**

_It looks like our ginger-haired contestant is at it again, managing to get some private one on one time with Britain's Most Magical Baker's celebrity judge, Harry Potter! This time they were caught together in none other than Slug and Jiggers, the workplace of Ginny Weasley. "I don't know what they were talking about, but their heads were awfully close together," said Roger Davies, who had gone in for a bundle of Chilean Nightshade for his sick mum. "And then I saw he had an intricately wrapped package with a bow. It must have taken ages to do and I thought to myself, 'Blimey, she's gone and given him a gift, hasn't she?' I thought I'd better get a picture as proof or no one would believe me!"_

_Readers, in a very special Daily Prophet exclusive, we have that picture for you! Simply tap your wand on the page to make it appear and judge for yourself!_


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